


if by chance you catch me sleeping

by oddishly



Series: goldfish [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fridays never meant anything before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if by chance you catch me sleeping

The last time Friday meant anything to Dean, he was twenty years old and trying to convince Sam that this was the last time they'd leave town before he was done with school. Friday was the sort of compromise Dean would save up six months at a time, for use on his brother and his father by turns. 

Now that they have a house and Dean has a garden and Sam has a library and Fridays off, things are a bit different. Dean never used to wake his brother up with a blowjob, for example, and look where he is right now.

Dean gives Sam a long minute to say his own good morning, licking the taste of his come out of his mouth and fumbling for his cock, then pries Sam's fingers away and rolls out from under the covers. 

Sam lifts his head off the pillow to frown at him. "Where are you going?"

"Food, Sammy," says Dean. He's been awake for hours, waiting to catch the alarm that gets Sam up for work every other day of the week, and he went past hungry right around the time the sun came up. Sam looks so good in the morning light, though, and Dean doesn't get to look at that very often. He leans down to kiss the line from his mouth and says, "Man cannot survive on dick alone," against it instead.

Sam splutters, but he catches Dean where he is with both hands on his shoulders. "Come back," he says once he's done with the kiss. "Don't make me get up on my day off."

"You signed up for it," Dean reminds him. It would be easy to keep running credit card scams if Sam decided he wanted to sleep in all the days of the week. He shrugs anyway and lets Sam take it as assent.

He forgets, again, that the stove cooks too hot and burns his eggs first go around, but rescues the second batch just in time to stop them turning black. Dean eats them standing over the sink, staring at nothing in the garden, then puts his plate down and picks up the tray of tomato plants from the windowsill, right above the sink so he doesn't forget to water them. Dean doesn't think that's going to happen but he didn't think the apocalypse was going to happen either and look what happened there.

Sam walks in as he's eying the three plants that have already sprouted, tray held up to his nose. Dean keeps his eyes forward but listens to Sam poke around the fridge for something that looks like breakfast food, eventually deciding on an apple that Dean knows for a fact isn't fit for human consumption anymore.

Sam's reflection shines the apple up on his boxer shorts then steps up to blur in with Dean in the glass, fingers pressing into Dean's hip on one side and the apple pressing into the other, pushing his nose into Dean's neck. 

"I was saving that," Dean tells him without looking away from the tray.

Sam smiles against his neck and puts a kiss there. "Sorry," he says, sounding anything but. "What are those?"

"Tomatoes," says Dean.

Sam snorts. When Dean doesn't laugh along he stops and says, "Seriously?" His finger comes out to prod one of the shoots and Dean smacks it away.

He puts the tray back on the ledge and steals the apple out of Sam's hand, tossing it into the sink. He means to tell Sam about the tomatoes, but then Sam's got one hand on his stomach and the other on his cock, mumbling, "Come back to bed," in his ear, and that seems more important, suddenly.

 

Sam wants Dean to get a job. Dean's just about getting by with laundry and bookshelves and keeping the goldfish alive, thanks, but he's not going to go around announcing that to Sam when Dean thought he already knew. They shout at each other across the kitchen table in the afternoon and manage most of a stilted conversation over dinner, and Dean decides to go to bed early and jerk off to the thought of their pretty neighbour, just to show Sam. They've got a room that they could call the guest room if there was anyone left alive to call a guest. No reason they can't put it to good use anyway.

Sam comes into the room twenty minutes later and sits on the end of the bed.

"What?" asks Dean grumpily.

"Nothing," Sam replies. He stays right where he is, not touching Dean and not moving. Dean's still irritated. Sam's face keeps getting in the way of his fantasy, turning it into something that makes his stomach hurt. He isn't ready for Sam to start up again about Dean making friends. Friends, for fuck's sake.

Sam stays silent. Dean huffs, giving in. "Get in, then, if you're getting in." He shuffles across the bed enough to let Sam curl up around him, and grumbles louder when he has to reach back to pull an arm over his waist the way Sam wants to. Sam hmms and slings his leg over Dean's as well, holding tight for as long as they can stand it.

Dean clears his throat. "Mom grew tomatoes."

"Did she?" says Sam after a minute. He doesn't have many memories left from before the Cage. Lucifer washed them all in flames with that little trip he took through his head. Dean doesn't think Sam ever knew this, though. "You've never told me that before."

"I didn't remember," says Dean. "Until heaven." There weren't any tomatoes in heaven that he saw, but there was that dish on the counter. It might even have been the day Dean broke it. If they'd gotten to stay there a bit longer he would have seen. He's thought about that a lot over the last few years. Heaven was a long time ago.

"That's nice," Sam says eventually. He adds, "Good idea of mine to get a king in here as well, huh?"

Dean closes his fingers over Sam's wrist, meaning to let go immediately, but he doesn't, and then he can't.

Sam waits until Dean's got a hold of himself.

The bed takes up the whole of the room, Dean's side against the wall that separates the bedrooms, less than a foot between Sam and the outer one. Dean spent three days filing the headboard down to get it to fit as well. They tested the bed out every night to make sure it was worth the effort. "Genius, Sammy." 

"Or we could sleep in ours."

"Nah," says Dean. He lets go of Sam's wrist but doesn't pull away. "This is good."


End file.
